One day in my early 20s I was walking down Chelsea Manor Street in London and, as I passed the greasy spoon café (no longer there), a man with a strong London accent came to the door and proclaimed “My name’s Bill and I’m not married.” I continued on my way but I had to laugh out loud at his humour and directness. I even felt a bit flattered.

This memory was triggered by reading and reflecting on Lisa Smith’s delightful story “Auld Lang Syne” recently published in the Guardian newspaper. Rufus, an elegantly dressed black man in his 70s, finds himself spending New Year’s Eve in Brixton police station, amongst drug dealers, drunks and prison officers. Heclearly notices precisely how each female member of staff he encounters looks. For example, while he is standing in queue waiting to see the Custody Sergeant, this is what he is thinking:

He estimated the police lady behind the desk was in her early-to-mid forties. Her dark hair was scraped into a tight knot on the top of her head, making her face look pinched, severe. Rufus thought that with a little rouge on her cheeks she might be pretty, he’d dated a couple of white women back in the seventies. He smiled at the brunette. She didn’t smile back.

This short passage brought another memory back, this time from my late teens. I was working behind a bar in London SE1 (before it became trendy) when a customer suggested I take off my spectacles. I think he even leaned over and took them off himself and then said something like "You're actually quite pretty." Again, I think I felt somewhat flattered, but this time I couldn’t help thinking of the old, disheartening saying “Men don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses.” (Glasses have since become much more trendy.)

Going back to Lisa Smith's story, at the police station Rufus also meets Dr Kwarshie, the doctor on duty, a black woman. He notices how much she resembles his daughter, with her round face, dimpled cheeks and almond-shaped eyes.

The story left me wondering what to think of Rufus and his interest in women's looks. It doesn’t feel at all black and white (pun not intended). His conversations in the police station reveal a rather charming and honest person who has ‘a love of rum, dominoes, gambling and women’. He is currently on his fourth wife, half his age, and has been arrested because of her allegation that he assaulted her (it never becomes clear exactly what happened between them). But do I condemn him (no)? Would I want to avoid meeting him (no)? Do I take into account the culture he has grown up in (probably yes)?

And what about the two strangers who paid me compliments when I was younger? Do I condemn them? Certainly at the time, I had no desire to get to know either of them any better, but Bill's words still give me amusement today. (I notice now that I have no recollection of Bill's face or his figure. Just his words and the precise location of the café. I even know I was walking north, away from the river and towards the King’s Road.)

Ironically, not long before that experience, I had come across the ‘women’s lib’ movement (this was the 1970s). We resented the way women were viewed as ‘sex objects’ and how their bodies were displayed in advertising and tabloid newspapers. Nevertheless, when someone paid me a compliment, with humour, I couldn't feel cross.

To me, these kinds of incidents are relatively harmless, though they do reveal something about the men involved. My conclusion: I don't think every compliment made in public by a man to a woman is automatically sexist or 'predatory'. It all depends on the circumstances. ​

Related reading:

"Auld Lang Syne" by Lisa Smith. This short story won the BAME short story prize in 2017, which is supported by The Guardian newspaper and by the publisher 4th Estate.

I broadly agree with your conclusion and would like to offer one fairly simple distinction between, on the one hand, what I think is likely ok in Western culture and, on the other, where manners dictate the prior establishment of a higher level of mutual intimacy.
I regularly comment, only positively, on the style choices of both male and female colleagues, and, rarely, on the style choices of male or female strangers, in public. My comments are always a spontaneous reaction to something I have noticed, and seem to be welcome enough. I imagine this to be pretty uncontentious.
More personal comments on someone's given looks require prior augmented intimacy.
I'm a happily married 58 year old hetero middle class white European male.
What an individual person notices inwardly about another I suspect makes no sense in general to judge, but is important to acknowledge as a factor in prejudicial beliefs.
That said, the over-arching context of the question - let's just get this banner up there - is gender power inequality.

Andrew, it's great to read your interesting comments. I notice that everybody has their own guiding principles around this question. One friend told me he would never comment on someone's physical appearance at work. (I am inclined to agree with you that comments on style can be okay and even welcomed.)

I like the distinction between comments on a person's style and on their body. The latter is obviously very personal and therefore risky. In general I only pay compliments (they are always genuine, not done to flatter).

And yes, gender power inequality is probably the underlying issue that makes all this so complex. I like to test situations by imagining genders reversed. For example, what would it be like for a man if a woman were to say "My name's Alison and I'm not married."?

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Julian Costley

10/8/2017 02:58:04 pm

Very refreshing and uncommon to read Alison's views given the inexorable trend to simplistic presumptions about sexism. It's a natural human act to pay a compliment its just that the direction has mostly been male towards female. The residual concern is if there is an unwelcome ulterior motive. But I find it a nice thing (perhaps because of the infrequency!) to be complimented by a woman and look forward to a time that we all communicate more openly. It will dilute the male/female 'issue' and make us all the happier.

Hi Julian,
I agree with your comments (thanks!), and they bring to mind another factor: age. People pay different kinds of compliments to older people ("You're looking well!" is a common one, as if one ought to be looking decrepit...). My mother taught me always to accept a genuine compliment and say 'thank you' - not show embarrassment or try to brush it off.

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